


The Humbling River

by SS_Shitstorm



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bisexuality, Character Death, Character Development, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Lesbian Sex, Mild Gore, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Psychological Trauma, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrequited Love, Violence, Yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SS_Shitstorm/pseuds/SS_Shitstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hinata volunteers to become Jinchuuriki after Naruto's untimely death, she struggles to keep a sense of identity while the lines between her life and Kyuubi's former host blur faster than she can draw them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Characters are gonna die and it's gonna suck. Should be fun though.
> 
> This takes place during the Pain fight and goes AU from there. Though it is SakuHina I intend for it to be largely a character development fic for Hinata. (Who got zero development in canon fuck you Kishi). 
> 
> More characters than I listed will appear, but I only bothered tagging the ones that will be of some importance to the story.
> 
> Critique, no matter how harsh, is always welcomed and encouraged.

Naruto was dying.

  
  
He wasn’t sure if it was the burning in the back of his eyes, the loss of sensation in his limbs, the gentle fading of his heartbeat, or the fact that he could plainly see that he’d been eviscerated from the waist down that tipped him off,  but he knew.

  
  
He felt his pupils stretch and dilate. Stretch and dilate. Kyuubi was scratching at the walls, smelling the freedom mere minutes away. Sakura needed to move.

  
  
His ears were filled with deafening humming. The humming wasn’t unbearable, but he couldn’t hear her either. She screamed something about Sasuke. He’d thought himself crazy when he’d seen his face for half a second. He’d been off by only half a second, hit by high speed debris or he’d have severed his neck rather than halve him. The hot sting of betrayal and anger pulsed at him. Anger and curiosity that would likely never be sated. Everything was so fuzzy now. He’d have to worry about the why’s in the later that would never come.

  
  
He’d been close. Everyone knew Pein was aiming for the village. Everyone knew that they’d be saved by a hero in the knick of time. Everyone knew it would be Naruto. Everyone but Naruto and Tsunade expected Jiraiya to show up last minute, (minus an arm) gloating about his perfectly faked death, to put an end to his former student’s bloodshed.

  
  
Nobody had expected Sasuke to show up in the midst, for a split second. A split second was all he needed. He would have been dead instantaneously if someone hadn’t thrown him off course.

  
  
She was still screaming. Pleading, really.  He was more focused on her warm arms around him, her healing chakra field pulsing out of control. Tears welled in her eyes. Beautiful green eyes. He tried to place a hand on her face reassuringly, but the limb was too heavy. Everything was too heavy.  He tried to clear his mind long enough to hear her.

  
  
He didn’t hear her tell him “to hang on”, or that “she was so sorry” and the “You can’t leave me” barely registered.

  
  
But he felt his sluggish heart stop when she sputtered “There’s three of us now” through her tears.

  
  
“How….long” was all he managed before blood erupted from his mouth. Fuck.  His mind was foggy and his mouth full of liquid, there was no hope of her understanding him now.

  
  
But she did.

  
  
“A…a week” she blurted out” She went quiet. Her arms shook around him. “Backup’s not coming. You’re bleeding out.”

  
  
He said nothing. It took everything he had to focus his spinning world on her face. A father. As luck would have it he knocked up the girl of his dreams and was going to be a dad. He was also going to die. What a day.

  
  
He wanted to tell her it was okay. He wanted to take her hand and ask her to marry him. Tell her he’d take care of everything. That they could make this work. That they’d be happy.

  
  
He could only take her hand.

  
  
For a moment, reality seemed to bend. He felt fresh chakra pouring into his nodes, the bitter bite of life flash back behind his eyes, and he knew she saw it. She smiled.

  
She was dying,

  
  
“Sakura, stop.”  
  
He had meant his voice to roar. To shake mountains. It merely shook.

  
  
He felt his nodes flare again. She wasn’t stopping.

  
  
“Sakura… please” he pushed back. She pushed harder. He felt her chakra signature weaken.

  
“Sakura!”

  
  
She paused. He wasn’t sure if he’d gotten through to her by himself or the unmistakably primal snarl in his voice actually scared her. He didn’t care.

  
“I can’t let you die.”

  
  
She stared back at him.  “I can’t do this without you.”

  
  
He felt a defeatist laugh rising in his throat. “I think you have to.”

  
  
She opened and closed her mouth several times. “The village needs a hero.” She said lamely. He had to repress another laugh. She was cute when she tried to reason with fate.

  
  
‘There’ll be another one after me. There always is.” he managed a toothy grin. “Maybe it’ll be you.”

  
  
She laughed. Barked, more like it, and immediately started crying again. He winced. He was never good at calming her down. She was a barely contained tempest. She was wild regardless of what he did. That was why he loved her.

  
He felt tears burning at his eyes, but they did not water. He was so sleepy now.

  
She wept now. She convulsed in her crying. There was fury behind her tears. He dared not challenge them.

  
  
“Sakura-chan” and this time he did manage to touch her face, albeit clumsily. “Run.”

  
She stared at him, wild eyed. “Run?”

  
  
“Once I’m gone there’s only a 30 second window before kyuubi gets out.” he felt his own voice crack. God forgive him he didn’t want her to leave. “Run as far as you can. You’ll feel burning if you’re still too close, and your clothes might singe.” He paused, thoughtfully. “He knows you though. He won’t try to hurt you on purpose but he’s big, Sakura.” he frowned. “You need to run.”

  
  
She had no expression. He knew she’d heard. He knew she’d made up her mind. Her grip tightened on him, his head on her lap and he wanted to drown in her green eyes. She would live. She would be safe.

  
  
He was at peace.

  
The ringing grew louder. Kyuubi tore at his restraints. He exhaled long and slow, and gave into the white blindness. The weight of the earth pressed on him, then through him. It occurred to him he didn’t need his body anymore, so he left it lying in Sakura’s arms. Voices ebbed at his ears, some familiar. There were journeys to make and he couldn’t wait much longer.

  
  
“Will she be alright, without me?”

  
  
The spirits next to him, tall, powerful, but impossibly warm placed their hands on his shoulder.

  
  
“She’ll find her way.” The voice to his left assured, strange, but familiar. “If she’s anything like your mother, she’ll fight. She’ll never forget you, and “ The voice paused, amused. “She’ll be loved.”

  
  
Naruto leaned into the presence. He felt the pull into bright places and the strings tying him to earth became undone. The female leaned over him, long red hair brushing against his face. “We’re proud of you sweetie, but it’s time to come home.”

  
  
He didn’t argue. They walked effortlessly over the air and he followed them, pausing to take one last look at the girl that held his cold body in her arms. He smiled. She would be okay.

  
  
The earth shook. Molten chakra poured from his body as the ageless titan that shared his living self began to rip free from it’s constraints. Sakura, with all the care one would lay a sleeping infant to rest with, stood up and removed his head from her lap unto a blanket of shattered rock. No fear shown in her expression. There was no room.

  
She did not run. She looked sweetly at her teammate, the boy that followed her and she spoke barely above a whisper.

  
  
“I love you.”  
  
  
  
********************************************  
  
  
Hinata watched.

  
  
That, she noted glumly, would be inscribed on her gravestone.

  
  
She hadn’t thought to act when she was five, and the filthy street urchin had saved her from bullies. She hadn’t acted when he’d sworn revenge (on her blood no less) or when he took on her cousin, far beyond his own power level out of sheer kindness. She hadn’t acted when he left on his three year journey with Jiraiya, or when he came back, taller, handsomer and (considerably less mature) to do something, anything, beyond fainting.

  
  
She remained silent when the tomboyish girl on his team had started seeing him less as a nuisance and more of a man.  Or when he, enraged  by the supposed death of his godfather, had left to train alone in the mountains. She hadn’t thought about what to do when the Akatsuki leader had come down on their village with the full force of an army, or when his supposedly dead teacher had showed up (gloating, no less, at what a good job he’d done at pretending to be dead)

  
She hadn’t done a goddamn thing when Pein had him cornered.  But when, byakugan activated, she saw his former teammate charge at him, ready to decapitate him, she threw a rock.

  
  
Yes, a rock. A Fucking _rock._

  
  
She was out of kunai, explosive tags, shuriken, anything helpful, really. Desperate, she told herself she could at least throw him off course, knock the smug bastard right in the fucking face.

  
  
She was half right.

  
  
The rock collided with his face perfectly. Right in the left eye. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been blinded. And he had gone off course. But not far enough.

  
  
Instead of decapitating him, he’d eviscerated him.

  
  
She remembered it as fast as she’d pushed it back. She’d compartmentalize her trauma. First she’d handle the stress of her one true love dying. Then she’d address that she’d almost, almost saved him. Then she’d go over how she never confessed her love. Then maybe, maybe if she had time left in her pathetic, PTSD ridden life, she’d process the memory of his innards coming out. Maybe.

  
  
For now she pushed that back. She saw Sakura running in the other direction. She wanted to hate her for running. Tremors shook the village and red chakra blinded her. It was bright and strong, and angry. She recognized it immediately as the tightly restrained chakra Naruto had kept coiled deep in the pit of his stomach, and her suspicions were confirmed. He was a jinchuuriki. The nine tails no less, and almost immediately after the initial surges crashed over the land she saw the desperate attempts of the remaining mobile shinobi to control it.

  
  
Ethereal chains bound it earthward but it stretched them like rubber bands and the preternatural wails pierced the air itself. She felt her ears pop and hoped it wasn’t permanent. Had her grief allowed her to care even an iota for her ravaged village she would have been concerned that they’d never subdue the beast without another jinchuuriki.

  
  
It then occurred to her that the chances of another volunteering to take Naruto’s place were slim to none. In the brief time he was their messiah everyone was willing to give their life for him.  Nobody was willing to live his life. The stigma was too strong, and if he hadn’t shown up in the knick of time to be their hero they’d still hate him. They still hated him anyways.  She noted bitterly their faces showed concern, not despair. Furrowed brows instead of tears. They weren’t sad enough. 

  
Of this she was convinced as her feet carried her to the beast. The furious chatter faded as she dragged her limping self into their circle. Kakashi stood in the center, composed but shaking from the effort of holding his broken body upright. She had heard rumours that Tsunade had recommended him as acting Hokage in case of emergency or her death. She hoped it was the former.

  
  
Hinata met his stony gaze with a determined one.

  
  
“Have you found a jinchuuriki?” It wasn’t a question and they both knew it.  
  
“No.”

  
  
Why? That was a question, one she didn’t ask and knew the answer to. She knew this was the most likely outcome but anger lashed against her ribs anyways. She had been right.  They thought themselves too good to take his burden. She expertly compressed her fury as she’d done her whole life and it ate softly at her. She would be better than them. She’d take his burden and be thankful for it.

  
  
“Then. . .  I volunteer myself.”

  
“No.”

  
  
They turned their heads. Jiraiya sideswiped Kakashi with his shoulder, and he swore under his breath, weary smile bared beneath layers of dirt and blood.

  
  
Hinata swallowed hard. At 7.5 feet tall an entire mountain of a man stared back at her with an expression as ungiving as her own. He did not smile for her and the tiniest shred of fear slithered at the back of her mind. She compartmentalized it as she did the trauma. There would be time to be scared later.     
  
  
“Why…the… objection?” Kakashi spat in between pained breaths.

  
  
“Besides the obvious? She‘s a chuunin halfway into her life with no experience handling foreign chakra, let alone this much.”

  
  
Hinata gritted her teeth. She’d only met the man briefly and hadn’t much information on him. She now had just enough to decide she didn‘t like him.

  
  
“Not like…we have …options on the table.” Kakashi wobbled slightly. Jiraiya caught him in his remaining arm.

  
  
“You have at least two because I’m willing to do it.”

  
  
There was murmuring. Kakashi  wheezed.  What followed was a nearly incomprehensible sentence that definitely contained at least one reference to his missing arm and a related deadpan insult.

  
  
“She’s too old to make the transition smoothly and too young to find a way of coping with it.” He remarked, bluntly ignoring the point. “The seal was the weakest it’s ever been when he was in Naruto. We have no idea what bled through but we know it did. I wouldn’t wish Naruto’s memories on anyone, especially not someone who was so obviously interested in him.”

  
  
Blushing furiously, Hinata now knew enough to decide she hated him.

  
  
“No offense, Jiraiya-sama“ the copy-nin started “But you are, bluntly put, “old as shit“. We’d have to find a new jinchuuriki within thirty years. Forty at most."

  
  
He chuckled, low and throaty. “I see you‘re already channeling Tsunade”

  
  
“She asked me explicitly to use that phrase.” His eyes fluttered. He was clearly having difficulty staying conscious. “We also can’t ignore the fact that you’ve a lifetime of enemies already looking for you.”

  
  
“And a lifetime of experience dodging them.” He sighed heavily.  “She‘s never had to run a day in her life. Her team specializes in long-distance tracking and she lives in a goddamn castle. ” Hinata realized that he’d never broken eye contact with her. He bored into her. She mustered her last remaining shred of guile to bore back.

  
  
“Then teach her.”

  
  
They broke eye contact just long enough to stare at thier acting Hokage in disbelief.

  
  
“Teach her to run. To hide and disappear like you do.  Teach her to handle the kyuubi and coexist with him like you did with Naruto.” 

  
Jiraiya was silent for a moment, drinking in his decision bitterly.

  
  
“The reaper death seal requires a human life.”

  
  
“That’ll be me.”

  
The blood drained from his face. She wasn’t aware of any connection the two men had until now. For a moment Hinata forgot her hate and she allowed gentle waves of empathy to roll over her. She waited for his expression  to change. It didn’t.

  
  
“Kakashi,” Jiraiya start slowly. “If anyone should die for this, it’s me. Nagato, Pain was my student. Naruto was my student. ”

  
  
“Nagato was able to be reasoned with. You managed to talk him into using rinne tensei.” a shaky sigh escaped his lips. “Naruto was my student too, but so was Sasuke. If it’s the contest as to who was the better teacher, you’ve beat me hands down.”

  
“I can’t let you do this Kakashi.”

  
  
A dark, exhausted eye  narrowed at the sage. “Until Tsunade regains consciousness, it’s Hokage.” his flat voice belied the snarl he had so expertly hidden. “Don’t make me make this an order.”

  
  
Jiraiya stared back. Compared to Kakashi he was a verifiable giant, the shorter man managed to tower over him nonetheless. With an exhausted sigh he buckled.  
  


“Do you…do you have any final requests?”  
  


Kakashi exhaled thoughtfully, brow furrowed in concentration. “Can you locate Sakura?”  
  


“She’s been at the medic’s tent since Tsunade fell unconscious.” Jiraiya paused. “Why?”  
  


He placed his hand over the right side of his head, and Hinata made a mental note to suppress yet another memory as he pulled his eye, sharingan still activated, out of it’s socket.  
  


“I have a parting gift for her.”


	2. Containment Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I kinda wish I made this sadder.
> 
> Criticism is great no matter how harsh.

It rained.

  
  
The funeral was held impromptu. It had to be. The village was in ruins. The graveyard largely untouched, ironically enough. There was no priest.  Shikamaru led the sermon. 

  
  
Hinata wanted to hate this. She had expected far less of a turnout and had prepared herself accordingly. They cried, even. Without anger to barricade her agony Hinata felt a crack forming in her composure. She needed something to be angry about, and fast.

  
  
Sakura was headmost, bloodied bandage covering the right side of her head. There were no tears, but she shook. Her composure was absolute. She didn’t cry at the eulogy. She didn’t cry when they lowered his body into the ground, and she didn’t cry when they put six feet of dirt over him.

  
  
She simply shook. This was reason enough for Hinata to hate, and so she repaired the broken boards on her mental fence with little white hot nails of fury. She thanked her silently.

  
  
Hinata didn’t need her byakugan to see Jiraiya several hundred feet away. He didn’t attend funerals. This was well known. She tried not to take note. She didn’t need anymore reasons to dislike the man, but if her fence broken further she knew where to find supplies.

  
  
And she truly needed those supplies. Those she had not expected to morn visibly did. Tsunade wasn’t still. Neji wasn’t still. Shikamaru, who had tried in vain to fill the void Sasuke had left, in Naruto’s life shook hardest. The village officially denied any evidence of such, but he had made friends. Lasting friends. And they had all come.

  
  
Some spoke for him. Some, like Shikamaru, Rock Lee, and Chouji she had expected. She was however genuinely surprised when her normally reclusive cousin and the young Kazekage(who had come immediately following the news) publicly recalled their experiences with him. Her composure weakened, she felt burning behind her eyes. Gaara choked on one of his words and Hinata swallowed hard to keep her tears at bay.

  
  
She averted her eyes and scanned desperately for something less sad to look at. To her surprise she noticed Sakura slumped against the gravestone next to her. Her back was against the polished rock, her head tilted skyward, blood still dripping from a bandage covering her right eye. She hadn’t seen her move from the front, and part of her was convinced she’d found her hiding spot just to mock her. She then reasoned that she was exhausted. She had attended two funerals that day, and probably hadn‘t the strength left to be the solemn pillar she was expected to be.

  
  
Part of Hinata enjoyed her being here. That high and mighty Sakura and been reduced to hiding and watching from a distance like she had. The playing field had been leveled. But far too late. She thought bitterly. Sakura tilted her head towards her and her heart jumped.

  
  
For a moment, their eyes locked. To Hinata it felt like an eternity. Tears fell silently from her exposed eye and suddenly all Hinata wanted nothing more that for those tears to stop. For Sakura to smile. To tell her everything would be alright. To see her smiling up at her, renewed hope in her eyes.

  
  
For a moment, all he wanted was for her to be happy.

  
  
And in that moment, with her anger momentarily dispelled, the fence broke. Her compartmentalization failed. She would morn for Naruto later, and this _was_ the later.

  
  
She doubled over behind the tombstone, the floodgates broke lose, and she wept.

  
  
Her body convulsed and she screamed into the ground. Screamed with the force she hadn’t put into protecting him. Screamed at the years she hadn’t spent fighting for him. Screamed at the future that had been stolen from her. And the tiniest part screamed for Sakura, weeping silently from one poisonous green eye.

  
  
She could see why he’d fallen in love with her.  
  


And for that she wept doubly so.

 

  
  
  
******************************

  
The rain subsided.

  
  
Hinata lay in the clearing behind the graveyard, face skyward. She focused on the gentle spitting as the rain clouds departed and not on the constant humming of her entire body.

  
  
The vibrations hadn’t stopped. She was told they wouldn’t. She would feel the fox’s every movement, his discontent, and hear every snide insult he would ever make. Ever.

  
  
They told her she’d learn to live with it. To ignore it unless absolutely necessary. He scratched restlessly at his prison wall with a single claw and it manifested as an irritating prickle in her side. She ignored that. She had managed to completely ignore him through the entire funeral and she wasn’t going to stop now.

  
  
This was her new normal.

  
  
She lay back and tried not to think about tomorrow, or the next few hours, or where she’d spend the night. She’d been thrown out of the Hyuuga clan by unanimous vote with nothing but the clothes on her back. Her father remained silent. She had expected as much. What she had not expected, however, was Neji’s fierce opposition. What she had done had been honorable, he argued. She brought honor to their clan by saving the village. The Hyuuga would be forever remembered by her noble sacrifice.

  
  
That was his angle. Which was, unfortunately shot down by every member of the clan council immediately on account of her being a jinchuuriki.

  
  
She said nothing in her own defense. She examined the ground thoroughly both before, during, and after the hearing. She hadn’t the strength to care. Her father had threatened to disown her before. She never doubted his honesty.

  
  
But when Neji had escorted her to the gates of the compound and held her for just a moment too long and promised he’d be there for her, she felt the growing tendrils of fear lash at her.

  
  
She was homeless.

  
  
Kiba and Shino had come to her after the funeral, in the clearing, asking if she needed anything. She politely refused. Kiba, she was sure, was clueless of her situation. Shino probably knew. He offered her time at his clan compound, which she again, politely refused. They left visibly worried.

  
  
  
Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance. She tried to ignore it. She would be fine. They’d learned to build all manner of shelters back at the academy. Why, if she could just  hole up in one of the giant sequoias in the forest of death she’d be downright _comfy_.

  
  
At that, she audibly laughed.

  
  
“H-Hinata?”

  
  
She felt her heart jump into her throat. Instantly she was upright, hand ready to grapple nonexistent kunai. When she saw who the voice belonged to she relaxed her grip, but nothing else. The fence was no longer needed, and her rage rose shapelessly.

  
“Sakura-chan?”

  
  
The pink haired girl offered a weak smile, belying the bloodied cloth that covered her right eye.  The beginnings of a dark circle were under her visible eye, her hair tousled and dried blood and dust covered most of her exposed skin. She looked like hell.

  
  
 “You’re still out here.”

  
  
Hinata drank her sentence in. It wasn’t small talk. It was a question.

  
  
“I…was just enjoying the rain.” She murmured lamely. “S-Sometimes it seems appropriate to have the sky c-crying when you are.”  no sooner had she finished her sentence than she wanted to punch herself in the face.  Holy crap that was stupid. _Stupid._

  
  
“I see…” She shifted uncomfortably (probably trying not to laugh, Hinata thought bitterly) and she raised her arm behind her head.

  
  
“I…Hinata I heard about your…situation.” she said quietly. (goddamnit Shino DID know) and I just…well.” she coughed into her hand. “my apartment is pretty roomy. There’s only one bed but I’ve got a couch… and…” she trailed off. There was the faintest hint of a blush across her face.  If Sakura had any idea of the fury barely contained behind Hinata’s eyes she hid it expertly.

  
  
Hinata fought. This was, after all, the girl that had refused Naruto’s affections for so long, the girl that was granted the gift she would have killed for. But she had nowhere to stay and Sakura was offering one. Her politely trained mouth not only moved faster than her vicious thoughts, but betrayed them as well.

  
  
“I’d love to, Sakura-chan.” she said, throwing every remaining bit of energy she could muster into a smile. “B-but I don’t want to be a burden.”

  
  
“You wouldn’t be.” she smiled back, and at least part of it was genuine. “I work so many shifts at the hospital I would hardly even see you. Not that I’d mind at all.”

  
  
“I…” Hinata trailed off “I’d want to help. I- I haven’t gotten a lot of missions lately but I can cook. I can clean and I can sew.  I’ll earn my keep I promise-”

  
  
“Don’t worry about that.” the genuine smile was stretched, and she suddenly understood. Beneath it was a plea for comfort, for someone once rivaled yet perhaps more capable than any of understanding her loss.

  
  
_I don’t want to be alone right now._

  
  
Hinata rolled the dice in her head, and winced as she came to the conclusion she’d already known she would reach.

  
  
“T-then…” Hinata exhaled. “I accept. T-thank you.”

  
  
Sakura said nothing, but offered her hand to help her up. Their eyes locked,  and when Hinata took her hand, she inhaled sharply. She felt a surge of energy to the most bestial, most primal area of her mind. The same, red hot rage that she’d felt since the funeral roared through her and brought her to her knees. Painful tears welled up in the corner of her eyes as she came to a sobering, surprising realization.

  
_It wasn’t rage._  
  
  
_“My mate. Mine.”_


	3. Cinnamon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn I'm hungry now.

Sakura, unlike Hinata, did not compartmentalize her pain. She had never been particularly apt at hiding her feelings. When she was happy, she smiled. When she was sad she cried. When she was angry, the village experienced minor earthquakes.

  
  
She had never mastered hiding her feelings. But what she had mastered was time management. And so, five times a day every day for sixty minutes at a time, she scheduled herself to cry. Sometimes in the bathroom, sometimes under an empty bed in the hospital. If she took her lunch at her desk she’d cry under it, if she went out to eat she’d duck behind a particularly large tree on the way back.

  
  
Right now she happened to be in the bathroom. Which was fortunate, as she found herself vomiting in between the tears.

  
  
_"Goddamn it’s only been two weeks"_ she thought ruefully, face pressed flush against the cool, forgiving porcelain. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she hoisted herself from her knees, and immediately wished she hadn’t.  She looked like shit. Bags under one eye, blood crusted bandage covering the other. It bled frequently. Tsunade told her it was normal. At least, what their limited knowledge in sharingan transfers dictated was “normal“. There had been no known records of a sharingan being transferred twice. Kakashi himself had told her before the seal relieved him of his life that it was a “verifiable crapshoot.”

  
  
He’d also apologized for dying on her, and had told her there was no one he trusted more to safeguard it.

  
  
She felt tears welling in her eyes again. Just as she had decided to extend her designated cry time into her lunch break she heard the door open.

  
_Fuck_

  
  
“Sakura?”

  
Shizune slipped in even more precariously than usual. She had spent a lifetime tiptoeing on eggshells around her master’s explosive temper and now after Naruto’s death those eggshells had become grenades filled with broken glass and poison. She also had bags under her eyes, Sakura noted with some relief.

  
  
“I’m here.” she croaked, using all of her strength to disguise the stagger behind her walk. “I was about to go on my lunch break” she said, fighting the urge to vomit at the mere thought of food. “What do you need.?”  
  
  
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt your um…lunch break.” Shizune raised a dubious eyebrow and Sakura immediately knew she had heard her retching.  _"She probably suspects it."_ “There’s been an emergency council meeting called and they’ve requested your presence.”

  
  
Sakura wiped her mouth with the side of her hand. “Did they say why?”

  
  
“Yes, it’s…” Shizune paused and averted her eyes as she let out a monstrous sigh. “You’re not going to like it.”

  
  
“I wasn’t going to like it anyways.”

  
  
“It’s…regarding Sasuke’s role in Naruto’s death.” Sakura could hear her nervously grinding her teeth. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but…a lot of them aren’t convinced Sasuke was even there.”

  
  
Sakura‘s breath caught in her lungs. She tried to cling to some shred of logic despite the storm of emotion that “Sasuke“ “Naruto“ and “death“ stirred up. She opened and closed her mouth several times, and when she finally managed to find words her voice cracked. “How is that possible? We _saw_   him Shizune. We _know_   he did it.”  
  
“Apparently, the only ones who actually saw him were you, Naruto, Kakashi and Hinata. Two of those witnesses are dead, Sakura.”

  
  
“I KNOW that Shizune.” she snarled, and felt awful as soon as she had for how Shizune recoiled.  She softened her voice. “You mean out of everyone on the battlefield, nobody, not one single person saw him other than us four?”

  
  
“No. Tsunade believes you. Jiraiya believes you. Shikamaru believes you. Everyone you know believes you Sakura.”

  
  
“And Hinata?”

  
  
“They’re discounting her credibility based on her recently becoming a jinchuuriki.” Shizune exhaled sharply. “Danzou’s side is trying to argue that the kyuubi burst out of Naruto on it’s own. They’re saying it broke free and killed Naruto, not the other way around.”

  
  
“Do they have support?”

  
  
“More than they should. They’re involving the daimyou of the fire nation. “ She signed heavily, and made eye contact. “This is just my assumption Sakura, take it with a grain of salt. But from what I’ve heard over the past weeks, it looks like they’re trying to make a case to imprison Hinata somehow.”

  
  
Sakura put her hands on the side of her head and dug her fingers into her temples.

  
“Does it seem like they want Hinata herself or is it because of her new ‘tennent’?”

  
“Neither. I think it’s a smear campaign.  Danzou’s been breathing down Tsunade’s neck since she was elected and Pain’s invasion has given him the opportunity he’s been hungry for all these years. He’s trying to make her and everyone that supports her look unreliable. He’ll gain support if he “proves” the kyuubi is too dangerous to be mingling with civilians and locks Hinata away.  At least-” Shizune took a big breath. “-At least that’s what I think.”

  
  
Sakura looked her over. “I believe you Shizune. If there’s anyone who has an idea of what Danzou’s up to, it’s you.” She placed her hand on the older woman’s shoulders and forced a smile. “I’ll head up there now. You-” she jabbed her thumb behind her, in the general direction of the exit. “Go home and get some sleep. You look worse than I do.”

  
  
“Alright.“ Shizune returned the smile weakly and made her way towards the door. She stopped at the threshold.

  
  
“Sakura?”

  
  
“Yes?”

  
  
She chewed her bottom lip worryingly. “Your symptoms shouldn’t be this bad early on.”

  
  
Sakura felt her heart drop. She was stupid to think another medical nin wouldn’t pick up on it. She sighed heavily.

  
  
“I don’t feel the need to mention it to anyone, if you hadn’t.” Shizune promised. “But I _am_   concerned. If you want to stop by later I’ll give you your first pre-natal exam so we can rule out any problems.”

  
  
Sakura felt herself flinch at “prenatal”. So far she’d managed to keep her mind a healthy distance from the situation and completely ignore any related anxiety on account of her mourning. She could not, however, burry it, and made a mental note to cry about it exactly five hours from now.

  
  
“I’ll be there.”

  
  
Shizune nodded and left. Sakura leaned over the sink and began to wash at least some of the blood from her face. As she did so she allowed herself to wonder about being a parent. She visualized a faceless toddler running through the house, chasing cats, yelling at the top of it’s lungs and smacking it’s head into things, like it’s father had. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Hell, maybe it could be _fun._

  
  
She started giggling at the thought and immediately vomited into the sink. Naruto would’ve laughed at her for that. She would have slapped him for that, and several hours later he’d approach her sheepishly, apologize, and offer to take her out to dinner, where he would probably suggest hilariously inappropriate food-based-baby-names.

  
  
Sakura wiped her mouth, warm sorrow crashing over her, and just as she bumped her designated cry time up five hours and slumped over the sink, she froze. It was now a wave of cold fear that overcame her as she realized despite her trembling lips and shaking hands and gentle sobbing her eyes were still dry.

  
She couldn’t cry.  
  
  
***************************************

  
  
_Cinnamon buns_

  
  
Hinata looked down woefully at her creation. They were fluffy. They were crispy. They had just enough sweetness and just enough spiciness from the cinnamon and the frosting crusted perfectly. They were perfect. She had never done better work.

  
  
They were not dinner.

  
She had one job. ONE JOB. Sakura had tasked her with making dinner (not so much tasked  but asked if she felt like making something) and if not she’d bring home takeout. Logic dictated that it be taken at face value. Hinata took it as a challenge.

  
  
She at first, had felt ambitious enough to try making steak. She had gone to the store, bought the finest the butcher had to offer, and followed his instructions to a T. A “T” had not accounted for the shortcomings of Sakura’s stove, which heated to approximately 40 degrees higher than whatever temperature was entered. The steak was charcoal. She had then attempted to reconcile her first attempt into fried rice. The attempt ended abruptly when Sakura’s rice cooker had began emitting sparks. She made a mental note to purchase a new rice cooker as soon as circumstances allowed.

  
The fried rice attempt had cost her half a head of cabbage, a leek and three eggs. There was not much left in the way of nutrious food. Head pounding  joints shaking she decided to make a cup of coffee, and the smell had led her to cinnamon buns. A Dessert. Not dinner. _Dessert._ Sakura would be home in less than 10 minutes.

  
  
She clutched her head and sank beside the stove. Okay. Cinnamon buns did not equal dinner. But she could fortify it.  She threw eggs and the remaining rice on the stove . It wasn’t friend rice but it was edible. Just as she was pondering whither or not to throw in the remaining leek (which had browned at the bottom, ew) she heard the door open.

  
  
She did not announce herself.  " _Bad habit_ ," she thought as the pink haired girl closed the door behind her. She paused, sniffing the air, and Hinata cringed.  
  


“I smell…”

  
  
“I-I-uh… BUNS” Hinata spurted out, far too loud. Sakura jumped. Hinata winced.  
  
Sakura said nothing, but made her way over to the stove and picked up one of the buns, sticky with frosting.  God, she’d even _cut_ them perfectly. They really were the best she’d ever made. And she felt the urge to burn herself with the still hot cooking pan because stupid _stupid_ buns weren’t dinner.  
  


“Its…amazing” Sakura’s eyes widened. Hinata bit her bottom lip hard. She mocked her, surely.  
  
  
“I-I know it’s not dinner, I made some eggs and rice too.” she trailed off “I had steak too but I ruined it and I made fried rice but I ruined that too and-”

  
  
“Hinata,” she felt a reassuring hand placed on her head. “Don’t worry about it. These are…incredible.” she punctuated the last statement with another bite. “Were did you learn to cook?”

  
  
“I-I taught myself.” she muttered lamely. “The grocery only sells these near the holidays. I-I liked them so much I d-didn’t want to wait all year.”

  
  
“You could sell these, Hinata, they’re good. “ she grabbed another roll before she sat down. Hinata used every bit of self-hatred she had left in reserve not to swell with pride. Her eyes swept the floor.

  
  
“I…have not had a productive day.” she admitted. She had not cleaned as well as she’d promised. The dinner attempt had taken far too long. She had meant to go over to Shino’s earlier. She had meant to ask Ayame where she bought her meat. She’d meant to walk herself down to Tsunade’s office and request a few d-class missions. Instead she’d burnt at least three pounds of food and made dessert.  
  
  
“So…” Hinata begin quickly, eager to deflect from her disastrous last few hours. “How was your day?”

  
  
Sakura froze. It was sudden and immediately compensated for. Anyone other than a shinobi wouldn’t have seen it.

  
  
“Its was….good.” Sakura smiled. The smile was fake, painfully fake, and Hinata knew she wanted her to see that. “ I did knee surgery today and the patient did just fine. Um, I had a C-section on a civilian. The baby was beautiful.” Hinata detected a crack in her voice. She filled it under “Interesting misc.” in her brain.

  
  
Sakura drawled on, about a boy with a skull injury, and an elder man that required an entire artery replacement due to his shitty diet. She almost didn’t notice when she asked her-

  
“Completely unrelated, Hinata,” she paused in between her chewing. (the rice hadn’t been cooked long enough, she realized) “But have you heard any rumors about the kyuubi or yourself as a jinchuuriki?”

  
  
This time, Hinata froze. She immediately recognized the intent. “That was bold even for Sakura” she feigned coughing into her hand but managed to actually choke on some rice in her efforts. “N-no, I can’t say I have.” She replied back as sickly sweet and fake as Sakura had, letting her know she was familiar with this dance.

  
  
“I see.” she smiled again and she narrowed her eyes (her visible eye, at least.) “Have you heard anything about Sasuke?”

  
  
Hinata’s stomach dropped. She felt as though an ice-cold egg had been broken behind her neck. Sakura would not bring this up casually. Sakura would not bring this up unless she absolutely had to. She made deep eye contact, and immediately regretted it. She saw the same restrained agony she so expertly denied in herself and it hurt. Holy SHIT it hurt.  
  
  
“No.” she said plainly, forcing down the burnt egg and rice. “ I haven’t heard much.”  she left it at that. Sakura looked at her warily.

  
  
“Ah, I was just curious.” she took a bite out of her third roll and Hinata actually had to look away so she wouldn’t see her blush. “Again, unrelated. . .” Hinata turned back to face her. “Kakashi dictated that you see Jiraiya for, ah, jinchuuriki training purposes, am I correct?”

  
“Yes.” She said, trying to push the thought out of her mind. Jinchuuriki training was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment.

  
“You’re to meet him tomorrow after noon.” she said. “It is important you understand, this is very _important_   training.” The emphasis on “important” was excruciating. Sakura’s eyes drifted towards the window.  Hinata understood. He’d tell her what Sakura was trying so desperately not to.

  
The was a pause. The east wall and the shutters behind her creaked softly with the wind. Sakura rose to take her plate (empty, Hinata noted smugly) to the sink. She turned on the faucet and while doing so spoke without turning her head to look.

  
“It was very crowded on the way back from the hospital.”

  
Hinata cleaned off the table, slowly. “Was it?”

  
“Yes, I could hardly walk in a straight line without bumping into someone.” she said cheerfully. “It’s almost like I was surrounded.”

  
“Surrounded?” Hinata mimicked.

  
“Yes.”

  
Hinata chewed her bottom lip and pretended to reach under the table while she silently activated her byakugan. Her suspicions were confirmed. Two, three if the one near her blindspot wasn’t a cat. One on the east wall, one under the shutters. There was no wind.

  
She pulled herself out from under the table. “T-that is unfortunate.” she said plainly as she brought her own dishes to the sink. “I hope you’ll have less trouble tomorrow.”

  
“I’ve got a hunch it’ll be crowded for quite some time.” Sakura sighed wearily. “I’ll be going to bed now. If you need anything just knock.” she smile she offered was exhausted but genuine. Hinata returned it.

  
A curious thing happened as Sakura made her way to her room. There was a string just visible, glinting in and out of existence like fishing wire extending at least five feet in front of her. At first Hinata thought it WAS wire,  of the standard-issue-shinobi-booby-trap variety. She nearly threw herself at the other girl to stop her from tripping it but stopped herself as she noticed it wasn’t quite there. It seemed to undulate between layers of light and she watched as Sakura followed it to her bed, where it ended. She tried to wrap her head around it before convincing herself her tired eyes played tricks.

  
 She deactivated her byakugan and sank onto the couch, Hands shaking she realized just how tired she really was. The concern about the two, maybe three anbu climbing their walls seemed far away and fuzzy, but little needles of anxiety pricked at her neck. She would sleep, lightly and fitfully, with the ever present weight of Naruto’s death and her new duty as a fox cage scratching at the back of her mind.

  
The couch was soft, it was warm, and smelled faintly of Sakura herself.  She rolled over to press her face into the cushions. The warm, flowery scent of the other girl relaxed her more than it should. She should hater her, she really, really should hate her, but as she reached down into the well of pent, up, bitter emotions all she could draw from was a surprising, overwhelming sense of protectiveness.

  
_My mates’ couch. My mate’s den. Mine._

  
Her eyes burned and itched. She was too sleepy now to care, and curled up into a nest of blankets and pillows and fell into a deeper sleep than she had in years.  
  



	4. Looking glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is this so long I don't want it to be this long.
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry I gotta break Hinata down before I can build her back up.

 

 

 

 

 

It was still dark when Hinata woke. Sakura gently shook her shoulder and she raised herself bleary eyed from face down in the pillow. She had slept deeply, but her dreams had been plagued by nightmarish images and nauseating smells she couldn’t identify. She didn‘t want to get up yet. Her throat felt dry and her head heavy. Her body screamed in protest as she turned her head to meet Sakura’s eyes.  Sakura screamed.

  
  
It took a moment for her to realize the shriek had come from the girl waking her but when she did she bolted upright and reached for her non-existent shuriken bag strapped to the pants she hadn’t put on yet. She fell off the couch in the process. She opened her mouth to ask Sakura exactly what was wrong when she saw the line again. The incandescent, undulating trail that made a u-shape as it stretched into the bathroom Sakura had dashed into and back to the couch where she lay. Sakura brought back a handheld mirror and held it up to Hinata’s face.  Hinata screamed.

  
  
Her byakugan was activated. Activated and _gross_.  Veins normally light blue or flesh colored pulsed an angry red spider web across her eyes. That was gross. What was terrifying was the vertical slits suddenly appearing in her pupil-less eyes. They still weren’t pupils, as far as she could tell, but behind the slits pulsed the same wicked red the veins had. They glowed slightly. Hinata felt nauseous again.

  
  
“I was going to ask if this has happened before” Sakura started, visibly shaken “but judging by your reaction I guess not.”

  
  
“N-no.” Hinata answered plainly, eyes glued to her…well _eyes_.

  
  
“Can you deactivate it?”

  
  
She held her breath, held her hand up, and attempted to cut the source of the chakra off. She was met with a brief, albeit intense blast of pain in her head, the force of which cost her her balance. Sakura caught her before she fell.

  
“I guess not” Hinata repeated lamely. The room spun. Sakura set her back down on the couch. The line went to the kitchen sink, and Hinata watched as she followed it there and back to bring her a glass of water, which she took gratefully.

  
  
“I can bring you to the hospital with me.” It was a question, though she didn’t phrase it like one. Her pretty face was scrunched in concern as she hovered above her. Hinata noticed she didn’t have the patch over her eye. The vivid red of the sharingan clashed with her remaining natural green eye. She had a very hard time looking away from it as it spun lazily.

  
  
It spun.

  
  
_Oh fuck._

  
  
“A-are you doing that on purpose?”

  
  
“hmm?”

  
  
“Your eye. I mean, your other eye. It’s…pinwheels” her initial embarrassment at not knowing the proper term was quickly replaced with fear. Pinwheels were not it’s default state. Pinwheels meant something…something bad. Something she couldn’t put her finger on.

  
  
Sakura placed her hand over her implanted eye. She paused, and Hinata watched as her expression ran the gambit from panic to confusion to thoughtfulness.

 

  
  
“Do you trust me?”

  
  
“Y-yes” Hinata blurted out before she had time to think. Before she had time to _react_ , Sakura had climbed on top of her onto the couch, hands planted firmly on her shoulders and ohgodwhat stop enjoying this. _Stop._  
  
“Watch my eye. Don’t look at anything else, just watch.” she said and her breath brushed against her cheek _damnit_   and the pinwheel began to lazily spin again. She didn’t know why Sakura told her not to look away, as she suddenly found herself quite incapable of doing so. She was lulled, the constant pulsing in her eyes slowed, and she felt the burning chakra flush away entirely back to her core. She exhaled long and slow. The line was gone.

  
  
There was a long, pregnant pause in the air in which Sakura did not move and they held eye contact. Hinata found herself not minding. Hinata found herself wanting Sakura to not move.

  
“W-what …”Hinata finally started, breaking the silence. “What did you do?”

  
  
The pause returned. Sakura’s forehead wrinkled unbecomingly.

  
  
“I don’t know.”

  
  
  
*************************

  
  
  
Hinata found it easier to think the farther she got from Sakura’s apartment. 

  
  
There seemed to be a definable amount of distance that when she put between herself and the other girl, broke the strange, bipolar spells of longing and protectiveness and brought her back down to the level headed bitterness she’d become so accustomed to.

  
  
  
She preferred the familiar, comforting bitterness by a long shot, and so she drew a mental map in her head between Sakura’s apartment, the hospital, and where she was now, and tried to calculate exactly how many miles away she needed to be to concoct her preferred cocktail of resentment, jealousy and self-loathing.  
  
  
_Wham_  
  


  
Jiraiya had body-slammed her into the ground for the fifth time that day. It was really beginning to throw off her math.

  
  
  
“You’re really not trying at all, are you?” he grumbles, mostly to himself as he gets to his knees.

  
  
  
“S-sorry.” It’s not authentic and she doesn’t try to hide it. There would be bruises on her chest. And back. And, well, most of her really. Because calculating the exact distance she needed to put between herself and Sakura to maintain coherent thought consumed most of her concentration

  
  
“No offense,” he begins, every bit as inauthentic as she was. “but a first year academy student should have been able to dodge that without 360 degree vision. There is literally only _one_   explanation for you getting hit and that’s _not trying_.”

  
  
  
She rolls her eyes, though thankfully without pupils her mentor was none the wiser. He isn’t wrong. She isn’t trying, she _didn’t_   want to be here. She wanted to be stewing behind a tree or under some rocky alcove or anywhere else that wasn’t here. But everything about Jiraiya, from his stiff body posture to the exhausted, glassy look in his eyes suggested that he wanted to be “not here” as badly as she did. 

  
  
Had the circumstances been different, she may have referenced their mutual dislike of each other’s company, and suggested perusing alternative training options. But she sincerely doubts that Jiraiya will give up on Kakashi’s last request so easily, and the idea of disregarding said order herself rubbed her the wrong way.

  
  
  
So they were stuck here, loathing each other and making half-assed attempts to teach and learn how to wield a monster’s power without killing everyone in sight and maintaining a façade of calm.

  
  
True to Sakura’s unspoken word, he had explained everything(forgoing formalities and all) and told her it was in their best interest to begin training to control the fox before anything else. The tiniest slip of  the reigns would give Danzou the fuel he sought and if nothing else they both agreed that was in nobody‘s best interest.  
  


  
So they took baby steps, learning to utilize an itty bitty bit of kyuubi’s chakra at a time so he’d shut off two of her natural chakra valves and loosened two points on her seal. He’d attack, she’d defend. Supernatural energy aside, it was laughably easy.

  
  
  
_Crack._

  
  
  
Or it would have been, had she been paying attention.

  
  
He’d forgone the tackle this time, and kicked her into a tree. Which broke. _Ouch._

  
  
  
“Fuck’s sake.” the sannin sighs “You bleeding?”

  
  
  
She inspects the gash on her thigh through the tear on her pants and watches as it closes before her eyes, emitting enough heat to make her eyes water.

  
  
  
“N-not anymore.”  
  


  
“Good.” he says making his way over to asses the damage done to the tree...And _only_   the tree, strangely enough.

  
  
She’d been apprehensive, at first. The sannin’s reputation as a shameless pervert preceded him by miles, and she had her reservations about being alone with him. But aside from the two, maybe three once over’s he’d given her when she first arrived their physical interactions had been limited to attacks, and only attacks.

  
  
This made her dislike him more, for some reason. Maybe because he wasn’t fitting neatly into her preconceived box, maybe because her only two memories of him were not crying when Naruto had died and not crying at his funeral. She did not need to dig deep to find hatred for him like she did for Sakura. It came effortlessly.

  
  
**_“Really is a prick, you know.”_**   It wasn’t her thought, but it rang with alarming clarity with the seal loosened.  She ignored it. She hadn’t responded even once to the fox’s banter and she wasn’t about to start now.

  
  
**_“Shouldn’t bother.  If he could teach you to control me I wouldn’t have gotten out of Naruto.”_ **

  
  
She furrowed her brow. She knew that wasn’t true, and kyuubi knew _she_   knew it wasn’t true.  He only spoke with ulterior motive, she was told to expect this. The nature of that motive was purely a guessing game though. One that was far too easy to play, considering it was in her own head.

  
  
  
”You need to clear you head” Jiraiya sighs, scratching the back of his head in frustration.  “Maybe we should take a break.”

  
  
  
A break sounds nice. There’s a nice tree for brooding under with her name all over it. And her outline punched into it. “I-I would like that.” she smiles, if only to maintain the illusion of politeness.

  
  
**_“That’s his way of telling you that you’re worthless”_ **

  
  
  
_“Stop.”_   she thinks back, and freezes. 

  
  
She’d spoken to him. 

  
  
_"Shit_."

  
  
**_“Shit is right.”_ **

  
  
_“Stop talking to me.”_ she chews her lip nervously, a cold worry twisting in her stomach. She could ignore him fine, but she wasn’t really sure how to stop talking to him now that she’d started.  
  


  
**_“He hates being here as much as you do. He hated being here with Naruto too.”_**  
  
  
“S-Shut up!”

  
  
She squeaks, startled by the sound of her own voice.

  
  
  
“Stop listening to him.” and she squeaks again as Jiraiya grabs her shoulders. Apparently he’d been watching the whole time, eyes narrowed, face scrunched in concern. His touch angers her more than it should, and she tears her arms away from her, breathing heavily.

  
  
  
“You were briefed on this, Hinata. He’s going to try every trick in the book, anything to get you to listen to him, even if it’s complete bullshit.”  there’s genuine worry in his voice. This should alarm her. This should be enough to bring her back to her senses. And it would be, had she actually desired her senses back at the moment.

  
  
  
**_“He was supposed to take care of him.”_** the voice is separate from the one in her head now, low and rumbling. **_“But he didn’t. Nobody cared about him enough. Nobody loved him like you did.”_**  
  
  
“He’s talking about Naruto, isn’t he?”  
  
  
_“Shut up.”_   at least that’s what she wanted to say, but it’s a growl, a low, throaty growl with no words and it feels good coming from her throat. Hinata was now infinitely more grateful for the distance between her and Sakura, because the rage was easier to reach into. It curled sympathetically inside her, biting and nagging  and insisting in all the right places and she wanted to enjoy it.

  
  
 So she did.  
  
  
“Don’t talk about Naruto.” This was ridiculous, and she was completely aware of how ridiculous it was but her rage begged for direction and Jiraiya was an easier target than most. “You didn’t even cry when he died. You’re not allowed to talk about him.”

  
  
“Hinata… _calm down_.”

  
  
  
“No.” She was dully aware of a growing heat around her, flecks of skin peeling from her face. She knew it was the fox, she knew he had latched onto her little flame of anger and was steadily fanning it into a wildfire. But the part of her that was concerned lay buried under the flames. Even if she’d had the means to put it out she wasn’t sure she had the willpower, and that was reason enough not to try.

  
  
  
“If you don’t calm down I’m going to have to  use the seal.  Don’t make me use the seal.” he was every bit as angry as she was and this only incited her more. “I can crush him if you let me out. Doesn’t have to be all the way. Just a little more.”

  
  
“You have no right!” she roars this time, complete with fangs and feral voice. “You didn’t love him like I did!”

  
  
  
“Last chance.”

  
  
“You didn’t _lose_   him like I did!” and just when she’s decided she’s had enough, that punctuating her last statement with a  clawed fist is an incredible idea reality bends. There’s no fox, no Jiraiya, only blinding white as pain rockets through her body.

  
  
  
It’s pure agony as Jiraiya pins her to the ground and forcibly closes the seal. Chakra and blood race out of her face and upper body and back beneath her stomach. She bites her lip hard, and manages to limit herself to a single scream, but it’s nothing compared to the icy fissure in her spine when she sees his face.

  
  
  
The seal wasn’t necessary, she decides, because the look Jiraiya gives her now makes her very soul wither. She is fairly certain that if hate were to give itself a human form, it would look something like this.

  
  
She’s also fairly certain that she’s returning that look in full.

  
  
  
She fully expects some speech about how everyone lost Naruto, and how her grief and anguish were nothing special, that she needed to grow a pair and get the fuck over herself. She prepared herself accordingly.

  
  
  
“You’re right.”

  
  
She had prepared wrong.

  
  
He releases her, wordless, but does not get his feet. Hinata doesn’t  move at all, frozen in the position she’d been tackled into.

  
  
  
“I was his godfather. When his parents died,  I  _became_   his father. So no, Hinata, I _didn’t_   lose him the same way you did.” he snarls,  not loud enough to disguise the anguish in his voice. “I lost my son.”

  
  
There’s a crack in his voice. She wants desperately to pretend it’s not there.

  
  
  
“You’re right. I wasn’t  there for him.” I wasn’t there when he needed me most, when he was helpless and  weak. I knew he was alone. I knew he was suffering, and I didn’t lift a goddamn finger to help.”  Hinata exhales nervously,  too scared to break eye contact, too scared to maintain it.

  
  
  
“I stayed away for so long because I was afraid. I convinced myself I’d fuck it up. That he’d never accept me as a parent. There was nothing in the world stopping me from being there for him other than my being a spineless bastard.”

  
  
  
The look he gives Hinata this time is infinitely worse, and would have broken her had she not seen it before on her own face.

 

  
  
  
“He was the most precious person in the world to me. And I never once bothered to tell him that.”  
  


  
  
And it hits her.

  
  
  
  
Tears burn at her eyes. She makes no attempt to stop them because she‘s not the only one with them.

  
  
  
She suddenly understands the contempt she has for this stranger, because he is far from being one. He is the same breed of miserable creature she is, a perfect, pathetic echo of her failure to show the devotion that defined her. He is everything she hated and all she’s ever known.  
  
  
He is her.  
  
  
It’s in this moment that she is no longer nervous, because while she has hated her reflection, she’d never feared it. It’s with this realization that she slowly pulls herself upright to stare at him. No expression, tears still falling freely, just _staring._    
  
  
  
She had no idea how long she sits in the meadow, burning holes into the mirror with her eyes, but she knows he won’t start talking unless she does because that’s how a mirror works.  
  
  
  
“T-this is why you didn’t w-want me to be a jinchuuriki.” she says slowly, cursing the return of her stutter.  
  
  
  
“You’re the angriest person I’ve ever met, Hinata, myself aside.” he says, digging his fingers into the sides of his head. “And I’ve met a lot of people.”  
  
  
  
Another silence. It’s no longer awkward. It merely is.  
  
  
  
“How. . .” she says after what seems like centuries. “Do you do it?”  
  
  
  
“Cope?”

  
  
She nods.  She isn’t surprised he knows what she meant, considering they’d just established that they were, in fact, the same person. “How do you make the anger leave?”  
  


  
“Alcohol and loose women.”

  
  
She wrinkles her nose, offended yet amused by his honesty.

  
  
  
“That doesn’t sound very healthy.”

  
  
  
“I never said it was.” he replies candidly, fishing a pipe from one of his many pockets. He kept dropping it. His hands shook too hard.

  
  
  
“Then how am I supposed to…” she trails off. If she didn’t know the answer, then he wouldn’t. They’d established this already.

  
  
  
She buries her face in her hands, not to cry,  but to rub her forehead vigorously. She wasn’t sure if it was from the sudden re-application of the seal or the 3 metric tons of emotional baggage they were both currently sitting knee-deep in but her head was killing her. She wanted to a mulligan on today.  She wouldn't get out of bed. She’d stay on the couch because it smelled like Sakura and she’d sit happily in her anti-hatred force field and not burn steak and not burn rice and eat leftover cinnamon buns.  
  
  
But no. Instead she was here, in a clearing wearing torn pants, watching her reflection try, and fail to light a pipe.

  
  
  
“Think of it like a river.” 

  
  
He stares off into space,  puffing lazily off his pipe. Hinata removes her hands from her head.

  
  
  
“A river?”

  
  
“Everyone has one.” he begins slowly. “Some people make it to the other side, some drown, some get stuck halfway through.”

  
  
  
She fidgets with her fingers nervously.

  
  
  
“Did we drown?”

  
  
“No.” he chuckles, sounding thoroughly defeated. “We never got in.”

  
  
******************

  
  
_The bank was warm. Warm and familiar. She had no idea how long she’d sat there but it was long enough that the grass had grown tall around her, hugging her into the damp earth. It was comfortable here._  
  


  
_Those were all good reasons not to cross the river._

  
  
  
_There was no point in trying. It was too cold, too deep, too murky and she knew she’d never make it if she tried now. She could wait. She could try when she was good and ready._

  
  
  
_“Nobody’s ever ready.”_

  
  
_The older man is bright and hard to look at, face obscured by a mane of white hair. Her eyes hurt. She shoves her head between her knees._

  
  
  
_“I’ll never make it.”_

  
  
  
_“You’ll never make it if you stay here, either.”_

  
  
  
_He’s right. She doesn’t try to argue._  
  


  
_He offers his hand._

  
  
  
_“What if we go in together?”_

  
  
  
_She’s not sure. She’s terrified, but she takes his hand anyways. The bank doesn’t want her to go, and the grass pulls at her, but his grip is strong, and she eventually breaks free._

  
  
_The river looks wider now than it ever has. She looks over at the man, hoping for reassurance, but he’s nervous too._

  
  
_They could be nervous together._

  
  
_She squeezes his hand, draws the deepest breath she's ever drawn, and  puts her foot in the water._  
  
  
  



End file.
